I’m Not Writing For You — Your Story is Way More Interesting

I’m not writing for you,
Doubt I’d have anything of value to say,
To help you, on your way.

Your story is richer, more meaningful too;
Forgive my writing, it’s for me, not for you.

I pause to gather thoughts in a few words,
Of times I’ve felt crushed, of lessons I’ve learned;
To remember to breathe;
To stop. and to see;
With full focus attention;
Hear. the sound. of that bee;
Feel. that breeze. on my face,
Notice how it flows across my skin;
If I was writing for you,
I wouldn’t know where to begin.

Of the times I’ve felt lost,
Didn’t know where to turn;
To not know how to ask for help,
As my stomach churned.

But I remember how I took
Just one more step;
Under the weight of staying alive I guess.

Of carrying shame that was not mine to hold,
And embarrassment that was not my doing,
Just take ‘one more step’ is what my mind told;
One more step, just. keep. going.

And know that with time this too shall pass;
That a moment may come, where someone will ask,
“How are you going, is everything okay?’
And at first you’ll stare blankly, not knowing what to say;
And your mind will release,
What your body has held,
You’ll tell your story, you might tell it well;
And it might all flow in one moment, or in drips and drabs,
And you’ll be unable to stop, whilst wondering, ‘do they think I’m mad?’
And they’ll stay -
And they’ll listen -
And they’ll see who you are.